Requiescat in pace, Sherlock
by Pinefresh65
Summary: Sherlock is an Assassin, Moriarty is - of course - a Templar.
1. Chapter 1

**This is not meant to be taken seriously, nor am I putting a whole load of thought into it. It's just a bit of fun. P.S. I might be putting up more, depending on whether I feel like it or not, and depending on how well this goes.**

**I don't own Sherlock or Assassin's Creed, the OC's are based on recruits etc. but kind of belong to me, and this fanfic (besides the plot stolen from Sherlock) belongs to me. **

**P.S Paul Simons = Paolo Simoni, one of my assassin recruits in-game.**

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Sherlock - mentor of the London Assassins - stood on the roof of St. Bart's Hospital, his heart racing. He had to jump, there was no other option. Well, no other option he was willing to consider. He had finally taken down his arch-enemy, Moriarty; one of the most intelligent and dangerous Templars the world had ever known. Moriarty was dead and John would be safe, mission accomplished… at a price however…

He trusted his Assassin recruits with his life, and it was a good thing, too. He had no-one else to turn to in this situation, besides Molly. Thank goodness the recruits were smarter than the general population, or they would've assassinated him themselves for being a traitor. His recruits had found out what Mycroft had done, spilling Sherlock's life story to the Templar, Moriarty. Needless to say, the London assassins - including Sherlock - were finding it hard to trust Mycroft after what he'd done to his brother and their mentor, even though Mycroft was the organising power behind the Creed internationally, and the only person keeping Templars out of most governments of the world.

Sherlock trusted his recruits, he'd trained them himself, but still… there was always that chance things could go wrong. It wasn't his survival he was concerned about, It was the sniper in the building across the road. If they were even remotely suspicious that Sherlock had faked his death, it would be John's blood on the pavement.

Faking it would be the easy part, anyway… hunting down Moriarty's web of Templar associates would be tedious, time-consuming and lonely work, but he had to do it. He was an Assassin, after all.

He grimaced, if he was going to take down Moriarty's web, he'd probably need the assassin branches in other countries to help him, which meant that Mycroft would eventually find out. _Wonderful_. He steadied himself and exhaled shakily.

'Goodbye, John.'

Sherlock threw his phone behind him and looked at the street below, it would just be like doing a leap of faith. Just like a leap of faith into the garbage truck below, being driven by Paul Simons, one of Sherlock's Assassin Apprentices. Sherlock had done too many leaps of faith into dumpsters over the years to be nervous.

A few more recruits and some members of his homeless network were milling about on the sidewalk in various disguises. The Homeless Network weren't Assassins, but they were invaluably loyal to the Creed and they did their jobs well if you paid them a bit.

Sherlock took a breath and spread his arms out slightly, stepping off the rooftop… preparing to do a leap of faith… NO-

He suddenly realised he couldn't do a leap of faith, because if John's sniper, (and John for that matter,) saw Sherlock gracefully dive onto the pavement, it would look a tad suspicious. So he tried to stop himself halfway and ended up doing a sort of horizontal, graceless flail, flapping his arms around to stop himself going headfirst. Sherlock landed in the padded truck which almost immediately drove away. He mentally kicked himself. Being an Assassin, he was so used to doing leaps of faith off of buildings that it was an automatic response when he had to jump off the hospital roof. He just hoped it was realistic enough.

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**Okay… Like it? Don't like it? Hate it? Want to come over to my house and skin me alive for vomiting this out of my brain and onto your computer screen? Let me know!**

**I'll try to do the next few in chronological order, but I'm not making any promises.**


	2. ASiP: Press conference

**Bianca Carson = Bianca Carsidoni (An assassin recruit from Brotherhood)**

**In memory of Zaccaria Zaccagno and Mino Ricoveri, two of my assassin recruits who were killed by Borgia guards. Requiescat in Pace. **

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**A quick messily done introduction so this'll hopefully make more sense:**

The creed hadn't changed too much over the years, except these days intelligence, blending, spying, breaking-and-entering and information gathering were more important than freerunning, fighting and assassinating. Assassins had to be sneakier, they could no longer slit a Templar's throat with a hidden blade and run away from the guards, if they did that, the police would be called in, witnesses would give statements, evidence would be found and the assassin would be tracked down and arrested, nor could they exactly walk around in traditional Assassin robes, too conspicuous – they could'nt exactly carry weapons around either. These days, they had to either commit the perfect murder, or wait until a Templar killed someone, then find evidence and arrest them. That was exactly what Sherlock did, the very reason he became a Consulting Detective. His deductive talents combined with his sharp eagle vision made him perfect at his job and more effective than the whole police force of London.

Around seven in the morning, Julian Sparrow - an assassin Apprentice - walked into the dingy kitchen in his small London flat, aiming to make himself a cup of coffee, but just as turned the kettle on, his doorbell rang. He plodded his way downstairs and opened the door, there was no-one there. Silently excited, he made his way up to his bedroom, got dressed in a hurry and went back outside. Stuffing his hands in his pockets and trying to look casual, he saw Bianca Carson, a member of the 'homeless network,' not officially an assassin, but they were loyal workers to Sherlock and the Creed - they did odd jobs if you paid them and kept an ear out for any helpful information. He made his way towards her.

'Spare change, sir?' She asked

'Don't mind if I do.'

She smiled and passed him a slip of paper, he smiled at her and casually walked away, slipped into the nearby café and sat down to read the note, written in a cipher only the Assassins knew.

_There is going to be a Press conference at Scotland Yard at 8.30, record the audio on camera 64 and send a live feed to me. SH _

Shit. It was eight o'clock now.

Julian stuffed the paper into his coat pocket and ran back to his flat, grabbed the small wireless camera from his desk drawer, hooked it up to his laptop, emailed Sherlock a link so he could watch it and sprinted to New Scotland Yard. Freerunning skills may have been less important in this time period, but they were still very useful in situations like these. Looking at his watch, it was 8.20, he had only ten minutes.

He made it in eight.

He checked that the camera in his pocket was ok before sitting down and watching the two he recognised as Lestrade and Sergeant Donovan take a seat in front of the ravenous news reporters.

'The body of Beth Davenport, junior minister for transport was found late last night on a building site in Greater London. Preliminary investigation suggests that this was suicide. We can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Fillmore. In the light of this these investigations are now being treated as linked. The investigation is ongoing but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take questions now.'

'Detective Inspector, how could suicides be linked?'

'Well they all took the same poison. They were all found in places they had no reason to be. None of them had shown any prior indications—'

'But you can't have serial suicides.' Julian sighed, some people annoyed him, if the reporter would just LISTEN…

'Well, apparently you can.' This Lestrade person didn't seem to be very good at this.

'These three people, there's nothing that links them?'

'There's nothing found yet. But we're looking for it – there has to be one.'

Right then, everyone's cellphones went off. Not including Julian's, but he checked it anyway, basic blending skills.

'If you've all got texts, please ignore them.'

'It just says "Wrong!"'

Oh Dear Lord, did Sherlock seriously send Julian over here just so he could make himself look good? That was a very Sherlock-y thing to do.

'Yeah, well, just ignore that. If there are no more questions for Detective Inspector Lestrade I'm going to bring this session to an end.'

'If they're suicides, what are you investigating?'

'As I said, these suicides are clearly linked, um, but it's an unusual situation. We've got our best people investigating-'

_Shouldn't have said that,_ Julian thought, just before everyone's phones went off again. He tried not to roll his eyes as he checked the blank screen of his Samsung Galaxy again.

'It says "Wrong" again'

'One more question'

'Is there any chance that these are murders? And if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?'

'I know that you'd like writing about this, but these do appear to be suicides. We know the difference. The poison was clearly self-administered.'

'Yes but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?'

'Well don't commit suicide'

This "Lestrade" really wasn't good with the press, was he?

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**Sorry that was... uneventful, but I'm trying to go through chronologically now, so the first few chapters will probably be pretty similar to this one (just explaining how things *really* happened. :P) until, of course, the cab chase scene, I'm really looking forward to writing that one.**

**So, next I believe, we've got Sherlock and John meeting each other in St. Bart's. Tell me if I miss anything you want me to write. :)**


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